До свидания
by Avatar1013
Summary: I have said many goodbyes in my lifetime'. What else is to expect from a poor man trying to cling to old traditions in a changing, new world? Even a Fiddler on the Roof has to stumble every now and again, right? Tevya's POV, reflecting on his thoughts


**До свидания**

**(Goodbye)**

* * *

Tradition.

Traditions are rules, customs, beliefs. They make up the world around us.

Tradition is the answer to all problems; with it, there are none. So why abandon it?

Children growing up, falling in love, dancing, leaving, things have certainly changed.

The Papa used to make the decisions, used to be important, the one growing girls looked to for help when tears threatened to come. Now, they are the ones bringing them.

Back when tradition mattered, children knew their place. Boys respected their elders. They did not tell them what was going to happen. Girls stayed at home. They did not choose their husbands. Wives listened. They remained silent and dutiful in the home.

Now, as the world changes, so does everything it contains. Boys, still not completely men, try to fix the world's problems. They think a few words can change a century's worth of trouble. Girls follow with their books and ideas. They think it's okay to think, to act. Wives back everything up. They step from behind the Papa and push the children on.

And what does God think of all of this?

He creates wars, deaths, goodbyes. He even changed my poor horse. He really does enjoy a little mischief in my life every now and again. Not that I am complaining, of course. God knows best, does he not? I must put my trust in him to pull us through, right the wrong, reveal the light, bring my daughters back.

Responsible Tzeitel. Who would have thought one so promising would fall for one so timid and poor? Sure, she enjoyed her work, but was a lifetime of it worth it? She was the eldest of the three; she was supposed to have the better life. She was never supposed to know the misery of no money. She should have married the butcher. But then again…

Motel will make sure she will never feel hunger. She loves him.

Intelligent Hodel. She always had the quickest tongue and wit. So strong and hard working, she was the closest thing I had to a son. Who would have thought one so smart would fall for one so outspoken and crazy? Sure, she, like him, loved proving a point, but revolting against the Russian army to do so? She was the middle child; she was supposed to have learned from other's mistakes. She should not have left her home. But then again…

Perchik will make sure she will never feel the cold. She loves him.

Sweet Chava. Little bird… Always had her head nestled in the clouds. She was the youngest of the trio; she should have had it the best. So young, radiant, full of life. Now she is dead. The moment I saw her standing next to him, I knew. I just did not want to believe it. Chava always had a special spot in my heart, a little ray of sunshine in this cold world. Now it is gone.

Fyedka… Did she really love him more than God? More than her Papa?

And what of the Mama? She goes through the days bitter, the nights teary-eyed. My wife, my love, did she expect all of this to happen as she was wed to me under the canopy? It is true, we have suffered together, fought together, and starved together. That is love. But although good to know, it does not solve our problems.

As Motel said, would now not be a good time for the Messiah? Now, before everything is lost? Three of my daughters are already gone, the twins do not have much time left. Nor do Golde or I. Nor do any Jews, nowadays. No one has much time left, really.

Anatevka ran out of time. Our Anatevka: broken down, boarded up Anatevka. Our home.

It is dead. We will find a new one in America, a land of Freedom.

I packed my children, belongings, and beliefs. I have already lost a bit of all those things.

Now, I wonder, in America, how long will I be able to hold onto our Traditions?

Tradition means knowing your place in this world and your purpose. The Earth may be changing, but that is why we must stand our ground, dig in our feet, and keep a hold onto our place. Others may have loosened and fallen, but I will not. God shall give me my strength as he did many others in the Good Book, no matter where they were. He helped Moses when he traveled far. I pray he shall do the same with me. After all, we are in the same boat. As he himself said in the Good Book,

"I am a stranger in a new land."

I have been thinking of this along our long travels to a new home. I have been reflecting on my life so far, as hard as it has been. It was like gazing into God's mirror, looking back on everything. I thought of my traditions, loves, dreams, thoughts, memories, beliefs, miseries, tears, pains, everything.

As we first sailed towards America, I was thinking of all of this. As I set my eyes on that Statue, the cities, the people, I was thinking of this. I thought of Home, Tradition, and, of course, the one who represents those two best, our fiddler on the roof. I thought of the goodbyes.

I have said many goodbyes in my lifetime. The most recent were the worst. I said goodbye to Tzeitel. I know I shall see her again soon, but it still hurt to see her walk away, into her new life and new family.

I said goodbye to Hodel. She did not just walk away, but she took the train. Trains are for traveling long distances, far away. When she disappeared, the air changed, and I thought it was I who was in Siberia. I do not know if I shall see her ever again.

I said goodbye to Chava. She did not walk away. She ran. She pushed everything away from her and ran. Then, when she reached her hand out to pull us back, I ran. To reject God is the worst thing anyone can do. My sweet, little bird would never abandon her people. She was not my daughter. My daughter is dead. I shall never see her again.

I said goodbye to Anatevka. I was born there, I suffered there. My whole life was spent there, on that road, that farm, our little corner of the world safe from its changing ways.

I was pushed away from it forever.

But none of this matters. If God wills it so, then it is so. Everything will come together peacefully in Heaven when he calls for us, so why fret now? We do not have much time left; I can wait.

Until then, I will struggle to survive in this shaky, new world, my new rooftop. But as much as it changes, I will continue to fiddle the same tune, as difficult as it may be to stand. I will remain a Fiddler on the Roof.

That is one Tradition I cannot say goodbye to.

* * *


End file.
